After flying overseas to enroll in a prestigious boarding school, Blake Graham assumes that she can finally catch a break.
Instead, she encounters the boy who she fought with almost every day as a child.
After moving back to England, then over to...
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Waking up the morning after a party is one of the worst things on Earth. I mean one of the worst things after Clark Ellington. The headache, the nausea, and especially the horrible taste alcohol leaves in your mouth was the perfect equation for a terrible day. Hangovers made getting drunk and making stupid decisions totally not worth it.
As I slowly came to consciousness, a few realizations popped into my head. One, this wasn't my bed. It was a soft surface, but it wasn't the usual California King. Probably a couch. Two, murmured chattering was in the background. Possibly someone I knew or possibly kidnappers. Who knows? Three, my head hurt like a bitch. Four, something was cooking, and oddly enough the smell didn't nauseate me. And lastly fifth, there was a chill on my bare arms and chest area.
After five minutes of thinking of where I could be, and not wanting to wake up or even move for the matter, I finally cracked open one eye.
After my blurry vision focused (due to my dried out contact lenses) I analyzed the area. The leather sectional I was lying on, a plasma TV on the wall, an American flag, a British flag, and a half naked Dakota Spaulding hanging on the wall. I was in the boys lounge for the third time and asleep here for the second time. What also gave it away was a passed out Luca on the other end of the couch and what I assumed was Clark covered in a pile blankets on the ground.
I lowered my gaze to where I was to notice a blanket laid atop of me, which had bunched to my waist. A soft pillow was slipping from under my head. But what immediately sprung me into action was my silk camisole that I wore the night before, was slowly slipping even lower to the right side of my body. What that meant? I was five seconds away from flashing The Grove (thought I forgot that nickname?) my nipple. Yes I didn't wear a bra yesterday and no I don't plan on flashing the boys.
"Shit!" I groaned pulling up my top.
"Morning sunshine!" Nico's voice greeted me as I slowly sat up. His voice sounded like he was yelling directly in my ear, and that didn't help my hangover.
"Nico shhhhh!" I shushed him, holding onto my head.
"Whoops! Sorry Blake. Here, take some aspirin," He materialized from behind the couch, wearing a long sleeve pajama shirt and flannel pants, his hair a birds nest. But his grin was what made me feel like, five percent better.
I took the pills from him, swallowing them dry, and gagging after choking the pills down. Taking dry pills wasn't as easy as some books made it out to be.
"I would say impressive, but I've seen better," A groggy voice entered the room. I looked to the side to see Dakota shutting the front door, also only wearing a pair of joggers and a tee shirt. "Cough 'em up Nico." He stuck his hand out waiting for Nico to hand him some aspirin. Once he saw that I was watching, he threw back the pills, swallowed without any choking, and stuck out his tongue to show.
I sarcastically began to clap, while Dakota cheekily grinned, making his way to the kitchen. A low groan sounded from the other side of the couch, most likely Luca gaining consciousness.
